


I'll take care of you (I promise)

by Iithril



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Geraskier Ship Week 2020, M/M, Timeline What Timeline, Travel, jaskier gets to ride roach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: Jaskier was in pain.Geralt could smell it, that stringent smell of hidden pain. The bard was lingering behind Roach, walking at a much slower pace than his usual swagger. The day was hot, and he wasn’t dressed for the temperature – typical Jaskier – but he was sweating more than he should have and his face was strained and pale.Geralt pulled on Roach’s reins to stop her, and turned to Jaskier, who lifted his chin to look at him.“What is it that you’re not telling me, Jaskier?”The inconvenience of travelling is that sometimes, it leads to injuries, especially for a reckless bard.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 342
Collections: Geraskier Ship Week 2020





	I'll take care of you (I promise)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Geraskier Ship Week](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1461312), with the prompt **Travel**. 
> 
> Many thanks to [bookscorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion) for organising this Ship Week!
> 
> And as always, a rain of kudos and my eternal gratitude to my beta, [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal).

Jaskier was in pain.

Geralt could smell it, that stringent smell of hidden pain. The bard was lingering behind Roach, walking at a much slower pace than his usual swagger. The day was hot, and he wasn’t dressed for the temperature – typical Jaskier – but he was sweating more than he should have and his face was strained and pale.

Geralt pulled on Roach’s reins to stop her, and turned to Jaskier, who lifted his chin to look at him.

“What is it that you’re not telling me, Jaskier?” Geralt blurted, more concerned than he thought he would be.

“You want a list of my secrets now, Geralt? Let me think about it…” Jaskier answered immediately, trying to brush the question off. As he took another step, he winced, but he continued nonetheless. “There’s this time I touched your swords without your permission, because I wondered how heavy they were. There’s also the time when I exchanged our pints of ale because yours was more filled. I’m sure it’s because the waitress liked you more… Can’t blame her, but still.”

He made a poor attempt at winking at Geralt, but the tone was lacking, and the Witcher only sighed.

“Oh, you’re talking about right now?” Jaskier asked with innocent eyes, his whole body trembling. Geralt only growled, tired of the bard’s games. Just one time, couldn’t Jaskier be concise like him? Was it too much to ask?

“Well, you see, I think I might have walked on something wrong, or made a movement I shouldn’t have… What a stupid way to hurt myself, really. You see, you can protect me all you want from monsters, I still find a way!”

“Jaskier.”

“Ah, yes, sorry. I think I… I hurt my feet? I don’t know what or why, but it’s quite painful no matter how I try to place my feet on the ground. And I swear I tried a lot of ways, but none worked.”

Geralt sighed again. How long had the bard thought he could hide this? Much more important, how long had he walked behind Roach in pain?

Geralt felt a pang of guilt, but chose not to dwell on it. Instead, he extended an arm towards Jaskier, his hand open and inviting.

“What now? Really, I get to ride Roach with you?”

“Jaskier, I swear to Melitele, if you don’t climb now, I’ll leave you there, hurt or not,” Geralt rumbled. He would never leave the bard, but the threat proved efficient. Jaskier grabbed his hand and hauled himself on Roach’s back, behind the saddle. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it would have to do until they found an appropriate place to stop for the day.

Jaskier put his hands around Geralt, holding him close, and his entire body relaxed before tensing again when Roach started to trot, following her rider’s orders.

“Hold on, Jaskier.” _ I’ll take care of you, I promise. _

~°~

Geralt was glad he had intervened, it was a nasty sprain. A wrong movement when he had tried to catch up with Geralt at some point, jumped over something and landed wrong, had likely caused the pain Jaskier felt, and he hadn’t helped his case by trying to hide it. His feet were swollen and almost visibly throbbing. He had sprained both of them!

They were in a small clearing, the sun lowering its course in the sky. A gentle wind was bringing them a bit fresh air, and it was a relief after the long march under the sun — even riding Roach, Geralt had been sweating a good amount. Jaskier holding him close hadn’t helped, but the bard was pale and still smelling of pain. He had let himself fall into Geralt’s arms to get off Roach's back, “like a potato sack” he had laughed, and Geralt had carried him to a tree and let him sit, before helping him remove his shoes, and they were now assessing the damage.

“You will ride Roach for at least a few days,” Geralt stated, adamant. He was a bit angry at himself for not smelling something was wrong earlier, and even angrier at Jaskier who had tried to hide it. His stubborness didn’t help either of them, and would slow them down.

Still, despite his resentment, he made sure he was gentle when he pressed, poked and tried to move the bard’s feet, feeling each hiss and curse Jaskier let out.

“Good, so now my feet will hurt and my bottom will too. Need I remind you, Geralt, that I haven’t ridden a horse for more than a few hours in years?” the bard asked sarcastically.

“Better hurting a bit than being lame for the rest of your life because you hid your wounds.” Geralt had perhaps let his anger rise at the surface, and his voice was icy cold and louder than he had intended it to be. To ease things down, he added more lightly, “And that way you’ll get me to take care of both your feet and your bottom.”

The look on Jaskier’s face was priceless, and Geralt smiled when he turned to search into the saddlebag for a vial of oil. When he unplugged it, the smell hit his nose instantly and he swallowed, the taste covering his tongue mirroring the scent of the oil. It smelt like sun and dust and something warm and spicy, and it was one of the best oils for this kind of thing.

“What are you doing, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, dumbfounded, when he witnessed him coming back with a grin and an open bottle of liquid in his hands.

“You’re not making me drink anything, let me be clear!”

The bard panicked and tried to bring his legs under him as Geralt stayed silent and crouched near him. A hand on his thigh was enough to stop Jaskier, who stared at him, his heart beating quick and strong, so strong that Geralt could feel its vibrations under his fingers.

“You’re not drinking anything that is in my bags, Jaskier. This,” and he shook the bottle in front of him, its amber liquid moving with hypnotising patterns, “is helichrysum oil. Good for sprains, bruises and such, helichrysum is also called the everlasting flower, because it lives deeply hidden in rocks and dry soils, with very little water and a lot of sun, and it is said it never withers.”

Jaskier was listening so intently he had relaxed under Geralt’s hands, and he stayed silent when Geralt poured a bit of oil in his palms, then handed the vial over for him to hold. Jaskier’s first reflex was to smell the neck of the bottle, and he made a puzzled face.

“It smells like spices and— urgh, Geralt, I can taste it too, and I’m not sure I like it.”

Geralt snorted as he rubbed his hands together to heat up the oil. The everlasting flower had an unpleasant smell for certain people, but luckily, he wasn’t one of them. It had always had a comforting smell for him, one that reminded him of good memories and Vesemir taking care of his bruises after a spar with his brothers.

He started to rub Jaskier’s feet with a gentle touch, and smiled inwardly as the bard shivered. His feet were all tensed and cramped up, so he started with a soft, general massage to untie all the superficial knots before he could identify the source of the sprain and determine its severity.  He cast a look at the bard as he did so, and his heart fluttered in his chest when he saw Jaskier with his eyes closed, his body slack and his breath deep and slow. He didn’t talk, didn’t even make a noise – which was quite surprising for him – and apart from a few content sighs, he was still and silent while Geralt took care of him.

And Geralt made sure to take care of him like he deserved. He massaged the feet, washing away all tension and easing the strain caused by the walk Jaskier had inflicted on them, he examined the ankles, and the calves, and worked on them until they all were warm and pliant under his hands. The scent of the oil had pervaded the space all around them, to the point it saturated Geralt’s sense of smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant, far from it.

It felt better than it should have for Geralt to take care of his bard like that. He wasn’t very good at showing him that he cared and wanted him to be safe, especially because the bard insisted on following him everywhere all the time, even into dangerous places where no human should venture alone. One could argue Jaskier wasn’t alone, since he was with a Witcher, but he was still fragile, and today was another proof of his humanity.

Which was why, perhaps, it felt so good. It felt  _ right _ to give him a bit of care back, after all those years he had spent singing and swaying, earning them enough money to sleep in comfortable beds, buy some new pieces of armour for Geralt and new fancy clothes for himself. After all those years he had spent taking care of Geralt, keeping the demons away at night with his soft whispers, mending him after yet another breakdown, untangling all the annoying knots in his hair. Jaskier had easily slipped into Geralt’s life and found a place that was now invaluable. So it was only fair that Geralt gave back, if only a bit, since he didn’t have the words to express the expanse of his gratitude.

When he finished, reluctantly taking his hands away from Jaskier’s skin, he retrieved as silently as he could the bottle and closed it securely. The bard didn’t move, his eyelids fluttering and his head tilted on his shoulder. He had fallen asleep at some point, which was one of the most rewarding things that could have happened. He wholeheartedly trusted Geralt to protect him — and even though this attitude was annoying and also fucking dangerous at some points, this time Geralt smiled, content.

He put the vial back in his saddlebags, took care of Roach who gave him a good head butt as a thanks, and when he had made sure nothing with ill intentions was around, he sat down next to Jaskier and tried to fall asleep. Jaskier’s feet would need another few days of rest to heal properly, but he didn’t mind having him on Roach, as long as the bard stayed still and stopped gesticulating like he always did when he got carried in his stories. And Geralt could always take care of him during their halts, just like today. Rub some oil on his bottom.

As Geralt’s breathing slowed down to the point it was barely audible even for enhanced senses, a hand blindly searched for his. Once it found it, their fingers joined, a sigh escaped Jaskier’s lips and they both slept with matching smiles.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment and enjoyed your reading, let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you~


End file.
